


SERMON AND ORATION 



WITH TIIK PROCEEDTXr.S OF 



^Irotmion ¥oiiiif lU. 28, 3*. 0. (f). f.. M. jt. 



IN COMMEMOItATIO.V OF 



COL. ISAAC M. TUCKER. 



Who fell at the Battle of Gaines* Mills, before Richmond, 
June 27, 1862. 



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SERMON AND ORATION: 

Sermon ^racljcir hn €. ^l O^rabot, 1). g. 



IN THE THIRD TRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, NEWARK, N. J. 
JULY 20, 1862, 

ON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF COL. I. M. TUCKER, 2d REG'T N. J. VOLS., WHO 
FELL AT THE BATTLE OF GAINKS' MILLS, BEFORE RICHMOND, JUNE 27, 1862. 



©rattan MikvtHi to ira. |(ol]u |}. foster, 



OW INVITATION OF 



PROTECTION LODGE No. 28, 1. 0. 0. F. 
In 3d Pres. Church, Newark, N. J., July 29, 1862, 

IN COMMEMORATION OK THE DEATH OF P. G. REPRESENTATIVE ISAAC M. TUCKER, 
COL. 2d REG'T N. J. VOLS., AND A MEMBER OF SAID LODGE. 

NEWARK, N. J. 

PUBLISHED BY PROTECTION LODGE NO. 28 I. 0. 0. R 
1862. 



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Ir. ^-raben's Sermon. 



IL Samuel, 1 : 25-26. 

" How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle ! Oh ! Jonathan, thou 
wast slain in thine high places ; I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan ; 
very pleasant hast thou been unto me." 

These words, form a portion of David's lament, when iie 
heard the sad news of the death of his friend Jonathan. 
That noble young man — the pride of his nation, whom in the 
beginning of his lament, the Psalmist styled " the beauty of 
Israel" — went forth with his father to do battle in a holy 
cause, even the defence of his country. But God smiled not 
on the hosts of the chosen people, even though the^^ were 
defending the right, against unrighteous enemies ; and soon 
the fearful news reached the ears of the absent David, of dis- 
aster and defeat — to him, aggravated by the fact that his 
friend, in the last struggle, when striving to turn the tide of 
victory against the foe, had fallen upon the heights of Gil- 
boa. The sad lament of which the text forms a part — one 
of the saddest — one of the sweetest — one of the most touch- 
ing ever penned by man — was deserved by Jonathan at the 
hands of his friend, for he was a noble man — he had died in 
a noble cause — he had died nobly. 

But a few days ago, and the bruit of battle was borne to 
our ears. With it came the Avhisper of disaster; that whis- 
per began to deepen in intensity — it soon became like the 
roar of the tempest, and thundered in our ears that thous- 
ands of the beauty of America were lying cold and dead in 
the lowlands and on the high-places of Virginia. Amongst 
the names'of those who had fallen, we heard that of one well 
known in this community — in this sanctuary, the name of 
one respected by all — loved b}' many — a leader in the host — 
the leader of one of our own loved regiments. You well 
know to whom I refer — to Col. Isaac M. Tuckek — one of our 



own- number. Col. Tucker was one for whom I entertained 
something of thefecKngs entertained by David for Jonathan., 
He was my respected friend — endeared to me by long and 
pleasant acquaintance, and by many kind offices. Concern- 
ing him I can truly take up the words of David — " I am dis- 
tressed for thee, my brother ; very pleasant hast thou been 
unto me." It is fitting that I, his friend and pastor — in this 
sanctuary where he so long and constantly worshipped — 
should pay my tribute of respect to his memory. It is fit- 
ting that here I should address words of consolation to his 
bereaved family ; that here I should use the sad occasion of 
his death to give instruction to you who knew him, who 
loved him, who respected him. 

J. Concerning our departed friend, I remark, in the first 
place, that like Jonathan, he was a noble man. Like the 
Prince of Israel, he formed a part of what is fitly styled 
" the beauty " of his people. I hazard nothing in saying 
that he was one of the foremost young men of our land. 

He was of a fine and commanding personal appearance — 
intellect was throned upon his brow ; frankness and gener- 
osity were stamped upon his features ; his smile was cheer- 
ful and winning ; his manners genial. Nor did the outward 
appearance belie the man — he icas what he seemed to be. 

His intellect was of no common order. This no one could 
doubt Avho had ever listened to his conversation or read his 
letters. His perceptions were quick — his po^^'ers of obser- 
vation singularly extensive — his judgment sound — his reason- 
ing powers at once acute and strong — his taste exquisite. 
No better proof of remarkable intellectual powers can or 
need be given than the presentation of the main facts of his 
life. Having but few advantages of early education ; passing 
the first years of his life — until he had attained his majority — 
as an apprentice, and a few following years in an engrossing 
business; he, by his own almost unaided efforts, before he 
reached the age of thirty-four years, had acquired an excel- 
lent general and legal education, and had become an accom- 
plished and powerful Avriter. At tlie age of thirty-four, he 
was admitted to the bar of this his native State ; he at once 
took an umisually high position for one just entering on the 



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practice of his profession — a position which he continued to 
hold and advance during- the three years of his professional 
life. 

His affections were strong and ardent. Though not demon- 
strative, he was a deeply affectionate husband and son and 
^ father. His impulses were generous — he Avas ever ready to 
make any sacrifice or to perform any labor for a friend. By 
nature he was an enthusiast — his propensity to enthusiasm, 
however, was in a great measure held in check both by his 
judgment and the experience derived from his early life and 
training. 

He was a man of unflinching courage. I refer not now so 
much to mere physical insensibility to danger — the meanest 
of the virtues, if with propriety it can be called a virtue- 
judging from his physical organization, I should say that lie 
possessed this to a remarkable degree ; but I refer not so 
much to this as to the nobler courage of the soul, which, 
whilst it perceived and appreciated a threatening danger, 
can still hold the man calm and unflinching at the cannon's 
mouth — in the very jaws of death. 

He was a man of irrinciple. He could be trusted. He had 
his faults — and who has not — but his was the noble nature 
that when error was committed, could acknowledge and re- 
pair it. 

Of his religious character,! regret that I cannot speak more 
particularly than is in my i)ower to do. He was, as you all 
know, not only a supporter of the gospel, but a regular 
attendant upon its ministrations. What professed follower of 
Jesus was more regularly in Iiis seat in the sanctuary ? I 
know that he was a lirm believer in the truths of the gospel. 
During our long intimacy, I had with him several close and 
particular conversations — especially on the eve of his depart- 
ure for the seat of war. Nor did our intercourse on this sub- 
ject cease with his departure — it was continued by letter. 
He always met me, when I introduced the subject of religion, 
intelligently — frankly — kindly ; with evident interest. He 
parted from lue M'ith t!ie assurance that he would give the 
subject of his personal interest in Christ his earnest atten- 
tion — an assurance which he nnsolicitedly renewed bv letter. 



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6 

The Chaplain of his regiment, in a letter written to me since 
his death, bears a testimony precisely similar to my own. 
He died with the words "My God ! My God!"' upon his lips. 
Of the nature and consequences of that cry, we can, in this 
life, know nothing ; but, may we not exercise the trust that 
it was the publican's cry for mercy ? With his father's and 
his mother's God — for he was a child of the covenant — with 
hoi)e, we leave him. 

Whilst we cannot but regrei — nay, mourn deeply — that, 
during his continuance with us, he was not a professed and 
decided follower of Jesus ; we may say, and say emphatically, 
that he was one of the flower of our people — the beauty of 
America — a noble man. 

11. I remark, in the second place, that like Jonathan, 
he died in a noble cmise. He died in the defence of his 
country. 

The phrase, my country, is one of the most complex — the 
most inclusive — that can be uttered. It includes the land in 
which I dwell — the whole land. Each and every section of it. 
It includes its scenes of beauty and loveliness and grandeur — 
its lakes — it? rivers — its hills — its mountains — its plains — its 
valleys — its seats of industry — its marts of commerce — its 
cities — its villages — its hamlets — its well-tilled fields. It in- 
cludes the graves of my fathers — the house where I was 
born — the spring at which I drank in childhood — the field 
over which I sported. It includes the home I have gained 
for myself — the home of my loved ones. It includes the 
nation of which I form a part — its grey-headed grandfathers — 
its strong men — its gentle mothers — its laughing maidens — 
its croAving infants. It includes my parents — the companion 
of my bosom — my little ones. It includes the government 
under which I dwell — which gives me protection — the just 
and equal laws that government administers. It includes tlie 
security — the sense of security — the prosperity — the wealth — 
the happiness — the civil and religious liberty — which I and 
mine enjoy. It includes not only my v>-cll-being at home, but 
my security — my consideration abroad. It includes the 
memories, the glories of the past — the prosperity of the pres- 
ent — the hopes of the future. My Country ! It is the 



most precious earthly boon which God has given mc— which 
God has given earth. It is the home of freedom ; the beacon- 
h'ght of the oppressed of all nations— of suffering humanity. 
It is the grandest earthly instrument for the accomplishment 
of good, the enfrunchisement— the evangelization of the 
nations. Next to the Church, purchased by my Saviour's 
blood, it is the noblest thing this world contains. Next to 
the service of Jesus hers is the noblest service in which man 
can engage. Next to the mart^n-'s death, deatli for her is 
the noblest man can die. 

In the service of his country—of our country — Tucker 
died. Yes, in her service. True, no foreign foe had landed on 
our shores, but paricidal hands had been reared to dismem- 
ber the father who begat them— to tear asunder the loving 

mother from whose bounteous bosom they and we drew life 

and with filial love and gratitude he had rushed forward to 
beat down those impious hands. Yerily, it was a noble cause 
in which he died. 

HI. I remark, in the third place, that he died noblfj—ns 
Jonathan died. 

He fell like a brave man— at the post of duty— with his front 
to the foe. He fell cheering on the noble band which each mo- 
ment was lessening at his side under the fierce and overwhelm- 
ing attack of a fearfully outnumbering enemy. He fell with 
the words upon his lips — " men ! we must stand around 
OUR COLORS AND DRIVE THEM BACK." His was not the courage 
of madness, nor the courage of despair— it was the courage of 
a brave man who knew his duty and was ready at every hazard 
to perform it. Brethren, I know it— though few do— that our 
friend entered upon this war expecting to die. This he implied 
by word and action Avhen he first informed me that he had vol- 
unteered—when he afterwards bade me farewell— and in evcrv 
letter that he wrote me after his departure. A few intimate 
friends with whom he freely conversed, witness the same. 
A mutual friend wrote me that for a few days before the bat- 
tle in which he fell he was sad— but calm, as thougli expect- 
ing to die, but ready to meet death. A friend who parted 
with him at the bridge of the Chickahominy, as he was 
leading his men to the field of blood, perceived the same 



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sadness — the same calmness. He expected to die — and yet 
was calm. 

" So marched he calmly to that field, 
Thence never to return ; 
Save bearing back the Spartan shiekl, 
Or on it proudly borne." 

Under a withering cross-fire — with but four companies 
strugo-linc: acrainst the attack of a repriment, "he dressed his 
men as calmly as though at evening parade " — and nobly fell. 
Even in the agonies of death, he could think of others. He 
bade those who were bearing him from the field, to lay him 
down and save themselves. And then, with the words " My 
God ! My God !" upon his lips, he gave up his spirit to his Ma- 
ker. The death became the man and the cause — he nobly died. 

To those bereaved, I cannot here — in the glare of day — be- . 
fore the multitude — speak those words of consolation and in- 
struction which are proper to the private chamber of grief 
But, to the mourning, I can say, you have the knowledge of 
what your loved one ivos — the knowledge of the noble cause 
in which he labored, and in which he died ; the memory of 
these things is a priceless treasure — it will increase in value 
as the 3''ears roll on, I can say, that in your grief you have 
the sympathy of all — of all who knew him — of this whole 
community — of all true hearts in the nation for whose wel- 
fare he died. Above all, I can say, that you have the sym- 
pathy of Jesus — the friend of the sorrowing. You have the 
sympathy of him who came to earth that he might sympa- 
thize — that sympathizing, he might speak a word in season 
to him that is weary. You have the sympathy of Him who 
was himself a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief — of 
Him whose heart knew bereavement — of Him, who though 
now exalted up on high (and therefore able to help) still bears 
for the suffering a brother's heart. It is my privilege and my 
duty, also, to say, that your Father hath smitten you. He ever 
chastiseth His children in love — for their profit that they may 
become partakers of His holiness. See that ye despise not the 
chastening of the Lord, nor faint when ye are rebuked of Him. 

To you, who sympathize Avitli this mourning family, I now 
turn. 



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The cause in wliieli our friend perished is a nolle cause. 
Dying in it, and as he died, he claims your respectful renieuL- 
l)rance. Above his grave should Ijc reared tlic rnouument 
which we accord to heroes ; and, by the side of that monu- 
ment, we and, our children should stand with uncovered 
Iieads and speak with bated breath. 

The cause in wliich he perished is our cause — the cause of 
our country— the cause of all the interests enwrapped in that 
pregnant phrase "our country;" he deserves our lasting 
gratitude. 

Nay, more— I should be false to myself— lalse to you — false 
to my country— false to my God, did I here stop. The cause 
for which he died — the cause of our country — that cause S(^ 
dear to him, to you, to humanity, is still in danger — it is even 
now trembling on the verge of ruin. He is no safe counsellor 
who says otherwise. It may — humanly speaking— be saved; 
but it can be saved only by toil and sweat and blood— it can 
be saved only by the putting forth of all the power, the tax- 
ing of all the energies of the Republic. The l)lood of thous- 
ands of your brethren calls upon you — not for vengeance— no 
not for vengeance - for it is written " Vengeance is mine ; I 
will repay, saith the Lord." Another cry comes up from the 
highlands and lowlands of Virginia, of Kentucky, and of Ten- 
nessee. The cry comes to you. Will you let us die in vain ? 
Will you suffer the blood we have shed to be of no avail to- 
ward accomplishing the end for which we shed it ? Will you 
permit that glorious cause for which we died — our cause — 
ijour cause— the cause o? freedom— t\\Q cause of humaniti/— the 
cause of God — to go down in darkness ? 
. What is your answer? Fathers! Afothers! will j-c hold 
back your sons ? The tears of thousands of parents shed 
over the bodies of their sous slain for you, will cry shame 
upon you. Wives! will ye hold back your companions? 
The tears of unnumbered widows shed over husbands slain 
for your benefit, will cry Shame upon you. Mk^— young 
men— will you hold back? The blood of your brethren, en- 
riching the plains and hill sides of the South, will cry shame 
upon 3'ou. Hark ! — a cry comes to you from every grave 
filled bv a patriot slain. 
2 



10 

Will you let us die iu vain ? In vain, indeed, we die, if 
we have fruitlessly perished in the cause of dastards who dare 
not emulate our example; who will put forth no effort to 
perfect for themselves that which we have commenced for 
them. 

Young- men, I do not say that it is the duty of all whom I 
address to leave the delights of homo and go forth to brave 
the dangers of the battle-field. Well do I know that it is the 
duty of some to remain at liome ; but, as well do I know that, 
it is the duty of some to go. It forms no part of my duty to 
declare how many shall go — or who shall go. The ques- 
tion — "shall I go?" each individual must answer for himself. 
My brother, in the light of God's word and providences, with 
prayer for the illumination of the spirit, seek thou the answer 
to that question ; or rather, seek thou the answer to that 
other question — shall I stay at home ? If duty point thee to 
the field of battle, go forth ! go forth, as went our friend, 
bravely — calmly — resigned to die, if need be, in thy country's 
cause. Go forth as a Christian, seeking, first of all and above 
all things the Kingdom of God and his righteousness ; that, 
if thou survive the contest, it may be not only to enjoy the 
iemjyoral fruits of thy labors, but to fulfil the highest duty of 
a freeman — even the faithful service of thy God ; that, if 
thou fall, it may be, not only to live in the grateful remem- 
brance of thy people, but also to live forever in the glorious 
presence of that God whom, in serving thy country, thou 
didst faithfully serve. 



PROCEEDINGS 

TAKKN HY 

CONCERNING THE DEATH OF P. CI. KKP. ISAAC JL TUCKER, 

A MEMBER OK SAID LODGK. 



At a regular meeting of tlie Lodge, held July 14, 1862., 
P. G. Master James D, Cleaver offered the following pre- 
amble and resolutions, which were unanimously adopted : 

'■' Whertas, There no longer remains any reasonable doubt as to tlio dcatli 
of our esteemed Brother, Past Grand Representative Isaac ^[. Tucicgr, Col. 
2ud Regiment, N. J. Vol., who fell at the battle of Gaines' Mills, on the 
2Tth day of Jane last, while bravely rallying his troops around the Regimental 
Colors — therefore be it 

Resolved, That a Committee of five members be appointed to prepare an 
e.xpression of the feelings of this Lodge, in view of this sad event. 

Resolved, That a Committee, consisting of all the Past Grands of this 
Lodge, be appointed to make arrangements for a public demonstration in 
m3mory of the brave soldier who has thus cheerfully given up every interest, 
and even his life, a willing sacrifice upon his country's altar. Said demonstra- 
tion to consist of a funeral Oration or other appropriate services, becoming 
the solemn occasion." 

Tiie Committee — Past Grands Cleaver, Douglas, Eoss, 
Force and Stainsby — appointed under the first resolution, re- 
ported, at the next meeting of the Lodge, July 21, 1862, the 
following, which was adopted with great unanimity : 

To the OJJicers and Members of Protection Lodge, No. 28, I. 0. 

0. F., of Newark, N. J. 
Brothers : 

Your Committee appointed to prepare an expression of 
the feelings of this Lodge respecting the death of our esteemed 



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12 

friend and brother, P. G. Isaac M. Tucker, would respect- 
fully report, and recommend the adoption, of the following 

MEMORIAL AND RESOLUTIONS. 

Brother Isaac M. Tucker, the subject of this paper, was 
initiated into the I. 0. O. F. in this Lodge on the 11th da}^ 
of March, 1846. 

lie was installed Financial Secretary on the 1st day of 
July, 1846. 

He was installed Recording Secretary'- on tlie 1st day of 
October, 1846, and continued therein until September 1, 1847, 
when he resigned the position. 

On the 16th day of December, 1850, be took a card of 
clearance, having removed to Richmond, Virginia, and en- 
gaged in business there. 

In 1851 he returned to this city, and on the 8th da}' of 
September of that year, he again deposited his card with this 
Lodge, and gladly renewed his old associations ; taking a deep 
and lively interest in the welfare of this particular Lodge, 
and of the Order generall}'. 

He was installed V. G. on the 5th day of Januar\', 1852 ; 
and passed the Chair of the N. G. with the term ending 
December 27th, 1852. 

On the 8rd day of January, 1853, he was again installed 
Recording Secretary, and served in that capacit}'' during 
the whole of that year. 

On the 9th day of January, 1855, he was a})pointed by 
tlic N. G., to the important position of C, and continued to 
hold the place, under the appointment of successive Nol)lc 
Grands, for three consecutive terms. 

He was, on the 8d day of July 1854, unanimously elected 
as the Representative of this Lodge in the R. W. Grand 
Lodge of this Jurisdiction. 

He was elected in 1855, as the Grand Representative of the 
R. W. G. L. of New Jersey, in the G. L. U. S., for the years 
1855 and 1856. He was again elected in 1857, by the R. W. 
G. Encampment of this State as her Grand Re])resentatiye in 
the G. L. L". S., for the years 1857 and 1858. At the Session 
of the G. L. U. S. held in 1858, he was appointed by Grand 



18 

Sire Craighead, as the Grand Marshal of that Grand- Body, 
for the years 1859 and 1860; and in that capacity he had in 
charge, at the 40th anniversary of tlie Order, observed in 
New York City, A]-)ril 26, 1859, one of the largest processions 
(composed of one Order alone,) ever seen on this continent. 
He also attended the Session of the G. L. U. S. for the year 
1860, which convened at Nashville, Tennessee ; and at which 
the profuse expressions of love for the Union, uttered by the 
brethren from the North and South and East and West, gave 
no cause to suppose how near and fearful was the terrible 
tempest of death and desolation which since then, has baptized 
the land in blood and carnaii-e. 

This, in brief, is an outline sketch of the history of brother 
I. M. Tucker, in his connection with our Lodge and the Order. 
It would be profitless to speculate upon what his career might 
have been, had his life been spared. 

But beside these honors conferred upon him by the Order, 
(and of which it is but simple truth to say, he accjuitted 
himself most admirably, reflecting great credit upon his 
State, his Lodge and himself,) he was for many years active, 
zealous and constant in the Lodge, shirking no responsibility, 
and de(;lining no service that could benefit*the brethren. 

He was a safe, willing and prudent counselor to any one 
who went to him for advice — and he had much to do in 
bringing about that system and method" which we are now 
enjoj'ing, and which was reached only after years of clfort 
and care. 

Thus it halJi been. But now ? ah ! rum- .- lu)\v is it ? 

" Jt is appointed unto man once to die.'" 

''' Dulce et dccoriuit cd jiro ])al.ria mori.'^ 

That appointment TucKEK has met. ^ray (iod cheer our 
hearts with the hope that in liis hour (^f mortal agonv, his 
Soul tasted the sweetness of a jtatriot's deatli upon tlu^ altar 
of Duty and Country. 

For the past year Death has l)een very 1 )usy. Mounted ui)oii 
the grim chariot of fiercest, civil war, he hath di-iveu over 
our once peaceful hind and reaped a harvest of mortality, 
enormous in extent. By the fatal breath of his nostrils he 
hath blasted hecatombs of lives, and reared upon the blood v 



o* 



u 

gleaning, great fountains of grief, whence shall llow through 
generations of Life, over myriads of crushed and sorrowful 
hearts, floods of dark waters, of more than ]\[arah bitter- 
ness. 

All classes have felt the smiting. In response to the call 
of a mother's voice, crying for help to redeem her life from 
the matricidal blows of a portion of her children, there 
sprang to the nation's aid her loyal sons from ever}^ trade 
and profession. Right gladly and gallantly they went out to 
defend our political Mother, even at the utter peril of their 
lives. 

How full of danger that duty was, the mute eloquence 
of an hundred thousand graves of loyal men — of an army 
ot sick and wounded heroes — and of the tens of thousands of 
smitten hearts, scattered all over our land — can truly testify. 

From our own Altar and Lodge-circle there went a score 
of brave souls, with their lives in their hands, to help make 
up a living breast-work of gallant manhood Avith which to 
stem the mad torrent of Treason, then, and still, setting with 
the energy of maniac hate against the corner-stones of the 
National existence ;.bent on uprooting and annihilating " the 
Union and the Constitution" of our Fathers, -and nullifying 
and defying " the Government and the Laws," established by 
"the People," under that Union and that Constitution. 

Of that little band who went out from us attended by our 
best wishes and warmest prayers, and over whose footsteps 
in the battle-field and the camp, we have ever since kept fra- 
ternal watch ; wc know that, to-night, two are prisoners of 
war : Another, is at home again, a victim to disease engen- 
dered in the malarious atmosphere of peninsular Virginia : 
Another is also at home ; a shattered, torn and mutilated 
witness, that those who could conspire for the destruction of 
the besfgovernment God ever vouchsafed to man, do not hesi- 
tate to pour volley after volley into wounded men being 
borne from the battle-field in the arms of faithful comrades. 
But of that little group who used to minister at our shrine, 
and who left our peaceful service at the call of duty, there is 
another : — that other is not now in command of his Regiment ; 
he is not at home on sick leave ; nor docs he la}'' bruised and 

6 Q 



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15 

wounded in some hospital ward; nor is lie languisliing a 
prisoner in the hands of the enemy. "Parade" and "drill" 
for him are no more ; the " reveille " will not again break in 
upon his morning slumber ; for him the Master above has 
sounded the "long-roll," and his soul stands now marshaled 
on high, where the Lord of Ilosts holds grand review. 

That other one left us in the very prime of life, and in the 
strength of glorious health. And now, oh ! where now is 
tliat out-gushing volume of life, and health, and vigor ? Gone, 
all gone. Withered and blasted within the pestilential 
swamps of the Chickahominy, surrounded by hundreds of 
other brave ones who fell, like him, defending our dear old 
flag, his body is now " mouldering away to join its kindred 
dust." — Ko hand of friend was there to bless his mortal re- 
mains with decent sepulture, but there where his hard press- 
ed comrades were forced to lay him down to die — there in 
the bushes, with face up-turned he rests to await the last 
trump which shall summon quick and dead. Peace to thy 
ashes, and a brotherly benison be on thee, fallen, but heroic 
one. 

It is fitting that we should "contemplate the scene ;"' and 
in preparing this memorial of his virtues and his worth, we 
should strive to lay to heart "the solemn admonition it 
affords, — let it sink deep into our hearts." Remembering 
him, let us ever aim to be in the path of duty ; let us try to 
live, in all things, so that when the enemy assails us (as he 
surely will) — in whatsoever form he come — we ma^^, like our 
gallant friend and brother, "rally around our colors and beat 
him back ;" or, failing in that, let ns, like him, fall nobly 
battling for the Right, with our armor on and faces toward 
the foe. 

Our brother is no more. Uis bright and genial smile will 
never again illumine our meetings here ; his deep earnestness 
of manner and impulsive eloc|uence of voice and gesture will 
not again, as it has so often in the past, sway the minds and 
move the hearts of the brethren around this Lodge-room ; not 
again on earth shall we feel the warm grasp of that brotherly 
hand of his, which, magnetized by one of the truest and teu- 
perest' hearts that ever animated human breast, to us has so 



10 

many times within these walls l)een given, in sign and token 
of greeting or instruction — in sweet memento of friendship 
and covenanted love. " All that remains on eartli of him '' 
we now mourn over, is hut the " sad memorial of man's mor- 
tality — the warm heart that throbbed for others' woes,"' now 
lies hushed and pulseless, where his noble soul plumed itself 
and took flight to God who gave it. 

Ilard-by, in 3^onder street, where for so many years he had 
a pleasant home, a faithful wife and the enshrined memory of 
a dead but darling child, there now lives a lonely, broken 
hearted widow — liis widow — our sister. In the noon-day's 
tide of life, in the solemn, awfid stillness of the deep night- 
watches, that widowed wife paces her desolate chamber, looks 
out upon the far oft' stars, looks in upon her own bruised 
heart, and turns to the picture on the wall of her dead one — 
and wuth tearfid eyes and tremulous lips, enquires, " u:ill he 
nsver come back ?" "will he never come back"?" And stars 
and heart and speechless picture, in measured cadence re- 
spond to the agonized question — " never ! never ! never !" 

Ai litis hearth-stone, too, oh ! brethren of ours, there is a 
vacant chair — here, as well as yonder, must there for all time 
remain a void — that picture of his on these walls, whose 
frame is now so freshly and so doubly draped with the funeral 
trappings ; that picture looks down upon us, to-night, and 
whispers, responsive to the sighing night- winds and the pain- 
ful throbbings oi our hearts — "never I never! never!" 

The stern necessities of war deny us the mournful pleasure 
of seeing his mortal remains committed to the tomb. But we 
know that his memory is safely enshrined in the repository of 
our fiiithful hearts, where we shall ever cherish it, green and 
blessed ; a sanctified treasure, a holy heritage — which shall, 
to some extent at least, beckon us on toward him ; draw us 
by the sweet compulsion of love, to higher aims and nobler 
aspirations. 

Brave, true, loving, loyal brother of ours I the sacrifice thou 
didst make w^as a tremendous one. Thou gav'st up worldly 
interests, friends, home, wife, a dear'son's grave — yes, and 
life itself, at thy country's call. And as we think of all that 
thou hast done and suffered, let us reverently invoke thy 



'Q 



17 

spirit to fall upon our hearts now, and baptize them with the 
noble impulses which made thy life beautiful, and thy death 
enviable. Oh ! may the lesson taught by thy example be not 
utterly in vain. May those of us who were in former days 
thrilled and swayed by the potency of thy voice as it rang out 
"with no uncertain sound," but pure and clear, as Truth, and 
Right, and Humanity wei-e advocated by thee within these 
walls : may we now, to-night, feel withniour inmost hearts as 
we listen and catch the utterances of the '' still, small voice '" 
whisjjering from thy soul to ours, sweet as the melody of far- 
off silver bells — a yearning for the better things, a longing- 
after more substantial good, which, coming to us, shall '• im- 
prove and elevate our character, give us proper concep- 
tions of our capabilities for good," and lead us onward and 
upward to a more close communion with our God and 
Father. 

The labors of our brother are ended — he has gone to his 
rest — we cannot rc(;all him — we can only mourn our loss and 
cherish his memory. 

He was, emphatically, a self made man ; he wrought out 
his own destiny. With no unusual advantages of early edu- 
cation, he yet, with unfaltering faith and intelligent zeal 
luorhal. He became a most thoroughly informed man. An 
enthusiast by nature, he loved with passionate ardor to study 
and analyze political and humanitarian c[uestions ; his acquaint- 
ances ranged through all classes of life and shades of politics, 
and it is a crowning glory of his character, that he greeted 
as warmly and cherished as dearly, his shop-mates of old, as 
he did Senators, and Governors, and Cabinet Ministers — all 
of whom were glad to number him on their list of friends. 

Yes, our brothers life-work is done — his destiny fultilled 
-and he has gone to that " undiscovered country from whose 
bourne uo traveller returns.'' Thank God ! he died bravely, 
and met his fate — 

'•Not like the (juarry slave, at nigbt, 
Scourged to his dungcoTi ; but sustained and soothed 
V,y an unfaltering trust * * -^ * * * * 
Like one that draws the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams." 



©■ 



i I Q 

18 

The following extracts will indicate in what estimation 
our deceased brother was held by those outside the Order and 
with whom he has been thrown into intercourse. As signifi- 
cant parts going to make up a character possessing so much 
that is worthy of emulation, they deserve a place in this our 
brotherly, monumental record (and the only one we can at 
this time erect) of our beloved dead : 

From a private Letter to Mrs Tucker, written by Cliaplain Proudfit, of 2nd 
Regiment, Neiv Jerseij Volunteers. 

City Point, Va., July 2, 1862. 

la accordance with the request of Coi. Tit'KER, 1 write you a few liues. 
As you are aware, no doubt, until recently this regiment had never been in 
action unci had thus been almost entirely exempt from the distressing cusual- 
ities of war. 

On Friday last, however, the 1st New Jersey Brigade was ordered to 
Woodbury "s Bridge, over the Chickahorainy, there to meet Gen. Porter's 
Division. Hix companies of the 2nd regiment were, at that time, on picket 
duty, under Lieut-Col. Buck, in the advanced rifle-pits of our lines. Colonel 
TocKEB led out the remaining four companies with the rest of the Brigade. 
From Woodbury's Bridge, our Brigade, with several others, was sent to en- 
gage the enemy near Gaines' INCills. 

Our troops were soon engaged ; they fought bravely and long, but unsuc- 
cessfully, owing to the thick, bushy character of the country, their unfavor- 
able position, and the overwhelming superiority of the enemy's numbers. 

Under the gallant lead of Col. Tucker, the soldiers, both officers and pri- 
vates, of the 2nd New Jersey Begiment, honorably sustained the historic repu- 
tation of their native State. Though greatly outnumbered and flanked by 
the enemy, they were the last to leave their portion of the field. 

All accounts agree in ascribing to Colonel Tucker, particularly, signal 
courage, discretion, and self-forgetful attention to the welfare of his men. 
But the exhibition of these qualities only made him a more conspicuous mark 
for rebel bullets. Some disorder commencing under the severe fire of the 
enemy, he endeavored to rally his men about their colors. Just after, or 
while waving his sword and loudly calling upon them to stand by their flag, 
he was wounded in the side. Several sprang to his assistance, and began to 
bear him from the field. But the cruel foe, not regarding the. disabled and 
suffering condition of a wounded man, or the errand of mercy in which his 
friends were engaged, made the little party a special target for their fire. 
Lieut. J. W. Root, one of the party, was wounded in three places. A 
moment after. Col. Tucker was again wounded, and exclaimed, " The coward- 
ly fellows, they fire on wounded men." Then, perceiving that his wounds 
wore mortal, he told his attendants to leave him and save them;'dves. ''I'hcv, 



19 

however, persisted in bearing him forward a little further, and at length laid 
bini down near some bushes, remaining during his hist moments. These were 
very few. Soon, exclaiming, " My God ! .My God !"— with a gasp his spirit 
passed away. 

On Saturday morning, the enemy then occupying the field of battle, I en- 
deavored to procure a flag of truce, intending to obtain Col. Tucker's body 
and forward it to Newark for interment, but under the existing circumstances, 
our commanding (general thought it impossiljle to send such a flag, and I 
deferred the execution of my pui-pose. No opportunity has yet occurred. 



{From the Newark Daily Mercurij,Jidij5.) 
DEATH OF COLONEL TUCKER. 

A rumor that in the late battle before Eicbmond ColonellsAAC M.Tucker, 
of the Second New Jersey Regiment, had been killed, reached this city on 
Thursday afternoon, but was generally discredited. On Friday, however, 
tlie rumor proved to be but too true, his name appearing prominently in the 
]ist of killed and wounded, and letters giving details of his death being re- 
ceived and published. The effect of this intelligence in the community it 
would be difRcult to describe. It fell upon thousands with the power of a 
personal affliction. Few men among us were more widely esteemed than Col. 
TrcKER. Of most pleasing manners, possessing the highest order of intelli- 
gence, and exhibiting in all his intercourse with the world the truest instincts 
of the gentleman, there was no man anywhere whom he did not esteem it a 
pleasure to serve, and no man. consequently, who did not regard him as a friend. 
For at least ten years past, though comparatively a young man, he had been 
influentially identified with the politics and public movements of the State, 
and there are few, among our most eminent citizens, whose judgment and abil- 
ity in the wide range of political operations, were his superiors. In ISad he 
wa« a member of the State Republican Executive Committee, and both in 
his official and private capacity, rendered important service to the cause 
which he so loved. Before the formation of the Second Regiment — surren- 
dering a lucrative practice at the bar — in June, 1861, he was elected as 
Lieut-Colonel, being subse(iuently promoted to the Colonelcy on the retire- 
ment of Colonel McLean. With his men, he was most popular : and as he 
would have chosen, he fell at the liead of the command which he had so care- 
fully and laboriously trained to fight for tlie principles of nationality and 
Union. 

Not only here, but throughout the State at huge, tlie news of his fall upon 
the field will occasion deep and profound porrow. But lie fell in a holy cause 
— in the day of the nation's resurrection to a better and sublimer life, and in 
the annals of this war he will be immortal. Mi\y (Jod soothe tenderlv the 
hearts, from which this blow has rent away the stay and proj). 



O' 



20 

{From the Army Corrc^iiondent of the Newark Daily Advertiser.) 

HEROIS^E OF THE " JERSEY BLUES.' 

In Camp, near James River, ) 
July r)tli. 18G2. j" 

The Ist New Jersey Bri.2:ade has at last been baptized in lilood. New 
Jersey has lost many of her sons, but they died fighting bravely ; they died 
like heroes — let our little State mourn its loss. 

Col. I. M. Tucker, of our city, was, I regret to say, killed in the action. 
He fell severely wounded at the head of his regiment, while rallying his men, 
and as he was being carried from the field was again shot, and fatally. He 
was being assisted from the field by Lieut. J. W. Root, who was severely 
wounded by a shell while doing so. Col. Tucker's praise is on every tongue, 
and his regiment is inconsolable at their loss. He was cool, calm and brave 
as a lion, and almost his last words were, "Don't mind me. boys, but go ahead 
and give it to them." I met the Colonel just before he entered the woods 
with his regiment, and shook hands with him. He was perfectly collected, 
and smilingly said, "Things are rather hot in there, and I think some of us will 
never come out, but the Jei-sey boys will do their duty." Poor fellow — he 
died a soldier's death and merits a hero's name. 



THE LATE COLONEL TUCKER. 
'I'he New Brunswick Fredonian, speaking of the death of Col. Tucker, says : 
He was a true patriot, and went into this war under the high impulse of duty. 
His services to his regiment were most valuable — he being ever active and 
laborious in training his command for the important part it was to perform 
on the battle-field, and the behaviour of the men on that trying occasion was 
his best eulogy. He fell, as a soldier should fall, with his face to the foe, 
urging his men to rally around the banner of their country, and protect it 
from the assaults of its dastardly enemies. Green may the grass grow over 
his noble form, and his example be ever kept prominently in view by all gal- 
lant souls. His death will certainly long be mourned by all who knew him, 
as we did. 

Much more might be added — less we could not say in 
justice to our brother, and to our own feelings : 

"Our dead are like the stars, by day 

Withdrawn from mortal eye. 

Yet holding unpcrceived their way 

Through the unclouded sky. 

By them, through holy hope and love. 

"We feel, in hours serene. 
Connected with a world above, 

Tnmiortal and unseen. 



21 

For death his sacred seal hath set 

On bright and bygone hours ; 
And they we mourn arc witli us yet , 

Are more than evci- oar's ; 
Our's, by the pledge of Love and Faith, 

Hy hopes of Heaven oh high ; 
By trust, triumphant over death, 

In immortality." 

Resolved, That while we mourn, most sincerely, the lo?s of our brother 
Isaac M. Tucker, our sadness is mellowed by the reflection that he fell at the 
post of duty. 

— That to his afflicted widow we offer the true, genuine sympathy of 
fraternal hearts ; who know by their own sorrowing, something of the deep 
suffering she is now experiencing ; and measurhig her grief by our own, we 
feel that for the consolation she needs in this hour of bitter trial, she must 
look alone to Him who " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," and " in 
whose hands are all our ways." 

— That the Charter ot this Lodge and the Chair of the P. (r. be draped 
in mourning for the period of six months. 

— That this memorial be entered upon the Journal of the Lodge, and a 
copy thereof, under the Seal of the Lodge and signatures of the N. C and 
Secretarv, be forwarded to Mrs. Tucker. 



JAMES T). CLEAVER. | 

B. B. DOUGLAS. | 

THEODORE A. ROSS, 1 Committee. 

FRANK R. FORCE, | 

WM. STAINSBY, | 



The Committee appointed under the second Resolution, 
having in charge a public tribute of respect for the memory 
of our deceased brother, made the necessary arrangements 
hy inviting Brother Jonx Y. Fostek, of Protection Lodge, 
to pronounce the Oration, and the Choir of the Third Pres- 
byterian Church to perform the Music — the Rev. Dr. Cjiavkx, 
Pastor of the Church, olficiating in Prayer. 

The services took place on Friday evening, July 25, 1862. 
An immense audience was in attendance, who manifested by 
their close attention and reverent demeanor, the high respect 
and warm love of this community for the fallen hero, Tlu^ 
edifice was chastely hung with appropriate emblems, the 
beautiful banner under Avhosc folds he died being intertwined 



o- 



22 

with the mournful sables of grief. Over the pulpit hung a 
beautiful wreath of ivy leaves and white blossoms, emblems 
of Immortality and Hope. 

At 8 o'clock the brethren of tlic Lodge, with delegations 
from the Grand Lodge of Southern New York, and from 
Paterson, Jersey City, Trenton and other places in this State, 
entered the Church in a body and took their seats in the 
middle aisle pews — the front seats being occupied by a num- 
ber of officers and soldiers of the Army of the Potomac, 
now in this city, among whom was Lieut, Root, Avho 
was severely wounded while assisting Colonel Tucker from 
the lield. There were also present several invited guests of 
high distinction in the Order. 

Passed Grand Master David Campbell, presided over 
the exercises, which were opened with some feeling remarks 
by him ; a chant by the Choir was then performed, after 
which Rev. Dr. Craven offered an appropriate prayer, fol- 
lowed by the singing of the following invocation, written for 
the occasion by P. G. Bailey B. Douglas : 

Almighty Father, God ; 

Before Thy throne we bow ; 
With this infliction of Thy rod, 

Thy grace, oh Lord, bestow 

Our hearts in sorrow bleed 

By thine affliction sore, 
Thy promises oh Lord, we plead. 

They are forever sure. 

Be Thou the widow's God, 

Be Thou her shield and stay, 
And spread thy mercies, all abroad 

Her life's now darkened way. 

Give her to feel Thy love 

In all that thou dost do ; 
Oh may she on this heavy cloud, 

Of promise see the bow. 

Afake us oh Lord, to learn, 
/ By thy mysterious ways ; 

Our hearts to wisdom now to turn. 
And number too, our days. 



It is Avith no idle thought that I address myself to the duty 
your partiality and kindness have devolved upon me to-night. 
I feel that we stand in an august presence — the presence of a 
life sanctified by martyrdom to high and holy duty ; exalted, 
and in its influence and exafiiple made immortal in the very 
hour its mortal pulse was stilled. I feel, moreover, that this 
is a solemn time — a time, in whose heart- beats the life 
of liberty and humanity is being measured in majestic 
rhythm — in wliich upon every loyal soul is laid the burden 
of a nation's fate ; and it befits us, in so grave a time, to walk 
with reverent steps where the Father leads us, and contem- 
plate with profoundest earnestness, the providences He orders 
— the duties tliey evolve. 

We come to-night to record, in this holy place so fiimiliar 
to liim living, our feeble tribute of respect to a friend and 
brother, dead — to testify before the world of the grievous loss 
we have, as Odd Fellows, and as citizens, sustained. Yet, 
friends and brethren, I shall pronounce no jianegyric upon 
the departed one. Isaac Miller Tucker needs, at my hands, 
no eulogy. " None knew him but to love him, none named 
him but to praise." His life is its own eulogy — his death 
was a panegyric of more than epic grandeur. I have, there- 
fore, but briefly to sketch his association with our Order, his 
services in the field, and then interpret, as best I may, for our 
niutual i>rofit, the suggestions of this occasion. 

The connexion of the deceased with our Order dates from 
the 11th day of March, 1846, when he was initiated as a mem- 
ber of Protection Lodge. Taking from the first the liveliest 
interest in the Order, he rapidly advanced from grade to 
grade, until in December, 1852, he passed the Chair. In Julv, 
1854, he was unanimously elected the Representative of Pro- 



24 

tection Lodge in the Grand Lodge of this jurisdiction, and in 
the following year was chosen as the Kepresentative of the 
Grand Lodge of Kew Jersey in the Grand Lodge of the 
tnited States, being again elected in '57 by the Grand En- 
campment of this State as her Eepresentative in the highest 
Assembly of the Order. At the session of the National Grand 
Lodge in 1858, he was appointed by the Grand Sire as Grand 
Marshal of that body for the 3'ear 1859 and 1860; and in 
that capacity he had in charge, at the celebration of the 4th 
anniversary of the Order, observed in New York city, April 
26, 1859, the largest procession ever seen, perhaps, on this 
continent. During all this period, in which the highest 
honors of the Order were worthify conferred upon him, its in- 
terests were steadily sought to be promoted ; and we feel that 
we, of all men, have a right to mourn his loss and to exalt his 
name in the eyes of all around. 

But it is not alone or mainly as an Odd Fellow that we 
think of our dead friend to-night. It is as the true-souled 
patriol, giving his life unto his country, that we chiefly love 
now to remember and do him honor. But even tlu's aspect 
of his career we may only view in hurried panorama, two 
views i)resentin£f its commandimr features : 

On the 27th day of June, 1861, the Second Eegiment of 
New Jersey Volunteers, 1,000 strong, Lieut-Col. Tucker in 
command, broke camp at Trenton, and under direct orders 
from Gen. Scott, left for Washington. It was my privilege 
and good fortune to accompany them in their journey. All 
the w;iy irom the Delaware to the Potomac, their progress 
was one continuous ovation. In the Monumental City 
especially — and I record the incident in this connexion be- 
cause it involved in it an illustration of the resolute character 
of the deceased—the reception of the Jersey Blues was mag- 
nilicent in its enthusiasm. The Regiment reached that city 
on the morning of the 2Sth, but a few hours after the arrest 
of Marshal Kane, and the discovery of secreted arms on his 
premises. Not forgetting that Massachusetts' blood stil) 
freshly stained its pavements : that treason loitered still with 
shotted gun and whetted knife in all the purlieus of Pratt 
street. Col. Tucker, a little distance without the city limits, 



@. 



had ordered his flank companies to load their pieces with ball 
cartridge — resolved, that if attacked, the Regiment should 
defend itself to the last. No Regiment, it should be here re- 
marked, had for many days marched through the city, but 
Col. Tucker was determined not to steal under cover of the 
cars, and the protection they offered, to his destination. Tin- 
men were disembarked, the line was formed, the music broke 
into a merry peal, and with lirm and steady mien, the Regi- 
ment marched out into the crowded streets* — hailed evei}'- 
where with rapturous acclamations — cambric welcomes wav- 
ing from balcony and window ; smiling fiices, with now^ and 
then a scowling visage peering through, brightening all our 
way. Every man of that brave thousand rejoiced to follow 
their leader where so few, since that dark April day, had 
gone ; and all felt, and justly too, that in the hour of peril 
and of death, he would not falter nor turn back. 

How fully our brother realized, in his brief career, this 
thought and expectation of his command, I need not here 
pause to show. It need only be said he was the brave and 
faithful soldier ever, and met a soldier's death with a soldier's 
royal fortitude. 

On the 27th day of June, 1862, the Second Regiment, lying 
at Gaines' Farm, on the Peninsula, was ordered to a post of 
danger, strongly menaced by the enemy. Four companies, 
under command of Col. Tucker, advanced boldly into the 
breach. Soon the battles' roar and death engulphed them. 
Fiercely, and in the Hush of triumph, heavy masses of the 
foe dashed against their weakened columns. But nobly they 
stood their ground, meeting with uublanched faces the tem- 
pest of hail and fire. But still the masses of the foe pressed 
in upon them on every side. Then it was, that in the very 
mouth of death, our friend and brother signalized the real 
heroism of his soul. In the very thickest of the danger his 
form appeared — and above the diapason of musketry and 
cannon, his rally ing-cry was heard. And then it was he 
fell — fell in front of his command — bravely otYering his life 
on the nation's altar — fell, with the battle's din around him — 
the old flag flying still above him — loll, his face to the foe, 
as he had wished to fall, if fall he must. 
4 



26 

But one little year from that hour in wliicli death came to 
him amid the glare of deadly strife, at the head of his com- 
mand — with drums beating and .bugles playing, and stand- 
ards gaily flying, with a wifely kiss fresh upon his lips, he 
had marched out from camp with face turned Yirginia-ward. 
Then, from unnumbered voices, rapturous acclaims pealed 
upon the air. Now, with a ruthless foe pressing' hard upo)i 
him, with life ebbing — with no time to speak fare wells — hard- 
ly with time to sob a snatch of prayer — the soldier has found 
death and immortality on the field whereto he came with ex- 
ultant hope and nerved for any fate. 

Few men in the army of the Union liave made greater 
sacrifices in quitting the familiar j^cenes of home for the tent- 
ed field, than Colonel Tucker. Enjoying a social position 
occupied by very few of like age and antecedents ; promi- 
nently identified with all public movements of whatever 
nature ; possessing in a rare degree the i.)Ower to control men 
and parties; successful in every rightful ambitious aim of 
his life — with a career of usefulness and honor spreading out 
invitingly before him — it was to him a sacrifice, indeed, to 
drop every tie, surrender all the fondly cherished purposes 
of his life — abdicate the possibility of civil elevation and pre- 
ferment — and, with his life in his hand, enter upon scenes 
entirel}'- foreign to his habits. No man loved more than he 
the tijiP, of power for jn'oper ends — the applause and esteem of 
his coteraporaries — the enjoyments of familiar pursuits. But 
he rightly discerned that all honors must pale in a time like 
this, before that the defender of his country wins; he felt it 
was his duty to go to the field ; it was a conviction penetrating- 
all his thought and feeling that community had a right to ex- 
feet of him, and others like him, a prompt and hearty re- 
sponse to the nation's call. In that conviction, lie left all — 
friends, home, ever^'thing — he girded his armor on, stood in 
his lot as a brave man should ; and to-night we have his 
memory only, with these badges of a mourning that not yet 
is comforted. 

But, my friends, there is a higher than a personal signifi- 
cance in the services of this hour. 

The thought which this occasion especially suggests nn- 



-9 



27 

doulDtcdly is this, that the prosecution of the war against 
Rebellion invDlves a tearful sacrilice of property and life — 
incalculable injiny to all materialinterests, with wide-spread 
exhaustion of the vital ibrccs of society and the State. AVe 
have already convincing evidence that a revolt so formidable 
and defiant, — so murderous and infernal in all its instincts 
and aims — a revolt whose capital criminality is in its as- 
sault upon constitutional suftVage - can only be subdued liy 
measures the most terrible and dead!}' — by fire and sword, 
through sufferings and desolation such as, perhaps, no later 
century has known. How many orphaned ones, w^alking 
through the coming years, will bear in their lives, stripped 
of their foliage and bloom, the scars this war has made ? 
How many fathers, how many mothers, marching with solemn 
pace to the land, up yonder, whose hills are white with tents, 
will mourn the dear son fallen in life's sweetest prime ? 
Upon how many door-posts, the red finger-print will shine in 
the eyes of coming generations: in how many grave-yards 
upon mouldering and moss-hung tomb-stones, your children 
and mine, wandering thitherward, hand-in-hand, in golden 
summer-days, will read this epitaph and prayer : " Here lies 
one wdio gave his life for liis countr}^ — may God's Angels 
roll the stone from the grave's mouth away, in the day of His 
coming." Yes, this war is making bloody havoc, in saddest 
truth, throughout our land. Its scythed chariots roll with 
maddest fury and unrestrained velocity, everywhere. Over 
all ranks and conditions of society, its baleful shadow 
svveeps. None can escape its calamitous influence — no inter- 
est is exempt from its desolating touch. Commerce no longer 
floats her argosies in every inland sea and river, making all 
our harbors vocal with cheery sailor-songs. Science no more 
explores in forest depths or Artie seas for treasures the world 
has, through all the ages, been searching for. Art no more 
interprets in chiseled column and on speaking canvass the 
thought and outbreaking life of aspiring peoples. The busy 
hands of labor, far and near, are prone and still — the loom 
and spindle, the adze and saw and chisel— all these are hush- 
ed in silence ; and in shop and factory doors the spiders 
weave their webs all undisturbed. War is abroad in the 



X 



o 

28 

land ; Death and Desolation are treading down the dearest 
interests and affections. 

Now, inevitably because logical!}', the enquiry which 
arises from a contemplation of these fearful desolations is 
this : Is the stake of the conflict worth the price we are pay- 
ing? In order that we may answer intelligentl}- and wisely 
this grave enquiry, we must understand perfectly luhat it is 
we are fighting to maintain. And as a means to this, it will 
not be improper to address us for a moment to a considera- 
tion of the principles and the structure of our Government, 
and the animus and purpose of the men who seek its destruc- 
tion. 

The study and effort oi the great and good of all times, 
and of all the systems of civil polity that ever warmed the 
world with a single ray of freedom, has been to secure^ under 
the swcuj of law, ih.Q persons and properties of the people. The 
Government of this Union is the highest and broadest em- 
bodiment and expression, which has yet been given, in any 
age or country, to this grandly humane idea. It is construct- 
ed essentially upon the principles that only by the restraint 
of each from doing injury to any^ can the safety of all be 
secured. In it the people themselves are miaged, and, as it 
were, epitomized. Every citizen is a constituent in the ag- 
gregate of responsibility and authority. However complica- 
ted our system of public polity, it is all rooted in and branches 
from the trust of the people — the trust of powers which they 
have granted, to be returned in protection. This, summarily 
stated, is the theory of our Government, and it is plain upon 
mere inspection, that the Government is. and must be, as in- 
destructible as the people themselves. 

Now, this rebellion proposes the establishment of a princi- 
ple which would necessarilv be fatal to our existence as one 
comjDOsite nation. The American Union represents the con- 
stituent sovereignty of all the States. In it, every State is in 
itself — whether normally or not, we will not stop now to con- 
sider — a sovereignty in the exercise of absolute jurisdiction 
and authority, save over a certain class of subjects, which it 
lias surrendered and given Congress the power expressly to 
control. Each State is secure in the enjoyment of perfect 

6 O 



2U 

freedom and independence, being subject to no restraints that 
are not Aviiolly self-imjDosed, while, at the same time, overall, 
the national authority in its oneness, is, in all that concerns 
the nation's self, independent and supreme. The grand idea 
of nationality, — of nihering, original life in the State — un- 
derlies our whole structure of Government. The thought 
which was in the Father's hearts when, to escape the evils of 
the Confederation and "establish a more perfect Government,"' 
they formed the Constitution, was this, that the Union being 
the sovereignty of the People chrystalizcd, was a perpetual 
principle, competent always, — nay normally and necessarily 
endowed with the ri//hi,. to protect its own existence, and to 
put down with a strong hand, all turbulence and faction, all 
revolt and insurrection, in whatever form appearing. They 
never conceived it to be possible that the People would rebel 
against themselves, seeking the annihilation of their own 
sovereignty— forming their only and exclusive protection 
against license and oppression. They believed, and they were 
right, that the central authority of a Government resting in 
the affections and the interests, and consolidating within it- 
self the rights of the people, would be sufficient to maintain 
the nation's life, however formidably menaced ; and herefrom 
it arises that so absolute is the freedom of every citizen that, 
in so far as any restraints it imposes are concerned, he may 
live for years without in his personal experience, save only i'l 
the protection he enjoy?, realizing that we have any Govern- 
ment at all. 

This, then — the sovereignty of the people— respect for the 
rights of eve/'i/ citizen, with the idea of inherent nationality, 
indissoluble and perpetual — forms the basis of this Govern- 
ment. But the theory, lor sixty years, of Southern politi- 
cians has directly antagonized this of the Fathers. They hold 
that each individunl State is absolute — complete in all the 
functions of nationality — owing no allegiance to the Union 
conflicting with its actual or imagined interests as a State : 
that the relation between it and the Union is in no acta;il 
sense imperative or perpetual, but may be dissolved when- 
ever the State may elect to resume so much of its sovereign- 
ty as it may have jibdicatod : that in one word, their allegi- 



so 

ancc is duo first to the Siate^ and only secondarily to Federal 
authority, and then for such time only as it may itself deter- 
mine. This, we sa}', is the theory of the South, and it needs 
no argument to show that this theory is a standing menace 
to the liberties and franchises of the peojDle. Indeed, it is 
already proclaimed in Secessia, that '" the right to govern 
resides in a very small minority ; the duty to obey is inherent 
in the great mass of mankind." Debows Review^ the recog- 
i'ij 1 ex ponent of Southern aristocracy, exjjlicitly avows that 
the aim of tlie insurgents is to establish propertied restraints 
upon the exercise of the right to vote, and to build up an 
Aristocratic class, in which the chief power shall be lodged. 
'■ To make an aristocrat in the future," says this organ, '• u:e 
must sacrifice a tJtoiisand paujjers." Even from Southern pul- 
pits, this same doctrine is announced. Says a Charleston 
Divine : " The source of all infidelity, vice and national de- 
moralization is attributable, in a great measure, to the loose- 
ness of the Declaration of Independence, and the existence 
of its natural out-growth, the absurd doctrine of universal 
suffrage.' 

It certainly cainiot be doubted, in view of these declara- 
tions, that it is primarily, this principle of hostility to the 
p(jwer and rights of the people, and to that element of sov- 
eignty wliich knits all the States into one, that the men in 
revolt propose to establish. It is easy to perceive that their 
success upon the doctrine that a State may at will secede from 
the Union, would be fatal to the Eepublic and the sovereign- 
ty of the people. The triumph of this sentiment, would 
present to the world the spectacle of people abdicating the 
right to live, and practically invoicing the horrors of revolu- 
tion. It would lead, inevitably, to a process of disintegra- 
tion, in which our nationality would be as utterly and hope- 
lessly extinguished as the glory of the old Eepublics, when 
they split into factions and discordant cabals. Instead of 
forming, as in the present, a great constellation of States, 
revolving around the central orb of Constitutional Liberty, 
we would crumble, hopelessly, into chaos, — the weak falling 
victims to the stronger — Lust and Passion seizing from the 
hands of Sobriety and Reason the svmbols of Authority, and 



o- 



31 

Oppression writing on all its altars, in characters of blood, the 
mournful epitaph of a nation self-destroyed. 

Now it certainly can need no argument to determine that 
a stake substantially involving our own existence, and all the 
rights and issues proceeding from it, is worth the vastest ag- 
gregate of values possible to be accumulated. Life, no less to 
the nation than to the individual, is the organic necessity for 
whose satisfaction all things, witliin human reach, will be 
given. To save it, to sustain it, at whatever amount of sac- 
rifice or of suffering, is a primal duty no less than an ele- 
mental instinct : and we may therefore assume, without any 
logical elaboration of the suggestions of the case, that the 
life of this nation — the vindication of our menaced integrity 
— is worth ail the terrible price we are paying for it in this 
day of suffering and carnage. 

There is another aspect of this subject which should not 
be overlooked in a consideration of the significance of the 
present struggle, and our duty in reference to it. While it 
is sadly true that this unhappy conflict is weakening all tlie 
foundations of social tranquility and order, demolishing in a 
common ruin its private and corporate interests, and supplant- 
ing the holiest and most sacred impulses of benevolence and 
love by the fierce antagonisms of section and of faction, it is 
equally true that in this experience there is nothing novel or 
unnatural. As a people, whatever may have been our pros- 
perit}!', however profound our peace, in the past, we had no 
right to expect an exemption from the casualties and afllic- 
tions common to all national growth and expansion. No 
people whose eminence has been sufficient to engage the his- 
torian's pen, have ever altogether escaped the ills of war and 
bloodshed. In all ages of the world, it has been through the 
gaps and seams and rents which the sword and scimetar have 
made, that God has poured upon mankind the blessings of 
expanded knowledge and a higher civilization. This Ameri- ' 
can Republic, from whose royal arches traitor hands seek to- 
day to pluck the Keystone, was reared through years of suf- 
fering and strife, its every stone baptized in blood and tenrs. 
Indeed, oui* marvellous growth and progress as a nation 
may legitimately be said to bo chiefly due to the stern disci- 



32 

jDline our'character sustained in the beginnings of our liisto- 
ry — a discipline which inculcated a love of freedom and hu- 
manity, taught us the value of the homelier virtues, and es- 
]3ecially dignified in our eyes man as man, without reference 
at all to adventitious circumstance. Through the sufferings, 
tlie chaos, the embarrassments from which we emerged at the 
formation of the Government now assailed, the national 
character was compacted and knit together, the sturdiest vir- 
tues and loftiest humanitarian graces being woven into its 
texture. In that long straggle, all crudities and dissimilari- 
ties before existing, ivere melted down and removed ; we were 
molded into one solid, homogeneous people. But in these 
later years, forgetting the principles of the father, worship- 
ping Mammon rather than Truth and Duty — ceasing to care 
for principle, but pursuing, day and night, worthless pelf, — 
we have grown materialistic — have suffered stalwart wrongs 
to grow up in our national life — have mocked at human 
rights, and made sport of the weak, and now God comes to 
us in the thunder and the whirlwind, shaking down the 
strongholds of our pride and ambition, shivering the altars 
where we have burned incense to the gods of this world, and 
stirring to their lowest depths the currents of our national life. 
This, we repeat, is the exact method by which the Almighty 
has, in all ages, roused earth's besotted peoples to a percep- 
tion of tlieir duty and their errors, — causing them to walk 
amid the ruins of their prostrated ambitions, that they might 
see there is a higher standard of living than any man will 
institute or maintain. Especially in the earlier ages were 
most striking illustrations afforded of this Divine disciplining 
of the nations. "Who — standing amid the desolations that 
overwhelmed tlie Roman Empire, when the Northern barba- 
rians, in resistless irruptions, laid waste all its borders, would 
have supposed that out of these very desolations a new and 
■ better civilization would arise, and be carried to the for ends 
of the earth, a]:>pearing, as the years went on, in new and 
vigorous nationalities, in whose veins flowed no drop of the 
old corruptions? In that day when Attilla had overrun all 
the plains of Italy, the civilized world seemed sinking into 
savage barliarisni and decay : religion, literature, and the arts, 



■a 



seemed crumbling never again to rise. Yet, God was in tlic 
tempest, and from this very chaos, He raised grander and 
worthier States, — commonwealths whose stateliness and pow- 
er for centuries stood the amazement of the world. Rome, 
once omnipotent and pure, had ceased to be worthy of re- 
spect ; her manners were corrupted — her literature and relig- 
ion were debauched by superstition ; genius, liberty, virtue, 
had altogether ceased ; all things had become venal ; the race 
was steeped in corruption. There was no hope or possibility 
that U])on tlie foundation of Roman life and culture, a gospel 
civilization could be budded. Therefore, from the heart of 
countries unknown to this degenerate people — from tlie 
North and East'and South, with great tumult of arms, in- 
numerable hordes of barbarians rushed in impetuous masses 
over the land, driving the people before them in dismay — 
overturning nation after nation — first beating down the 
gates of Rome, then bursting over the ramparts into the af- 
frighted streets of Carthage, pitilessly destroying the 
wrecks of Rome, thither tlown for refuge — tJien desolating 
Gaul, leaving a trail of blood and tire behind them every- 
where. But in all this destruction, unconsciously to tlie 
scouri2:ing barbarians themselves, tht^re was method and or- 
der, for from the ruin a new world was to emerge. Tlu^ 
great catastrophe of the annihilation of Rome as a nation, a 
work of years, was accomplished by the operation of causes 
which liad been gathering strength and force for centuries. 
And wlien the winds of God had scattered tlie dust of the 
countless armies of Alaric, Genseric and AttiHa. around tlic 
few feeble pillars of the old nationality which remained, God 
grouped his gospehbuilders, under whoso genial touch a new 
civilization gradually arose, which, broadening and deepen- 
ing as the years went on, became at length paramount and 
supreme, conipellini: a world to respeet its authority and 
])Ower. 

We need not, surely, ].)oint to the history of other nations, 
or to later times, in further illustration of (uu- i)ostulute that 
every people, commissioned of God to perform some part in 
His economy and administration, must expect to endure, as 
their assessment of benefits to the connnoii troasurv ofman- 



O- 



34 

kind, the perils and disasters of strife and war. It is only 
through toil and privation — in the midst of dangers the most 
absolute, demanding the assertion of all their energies, that 
a people can comprehend and develope their real strength, 
or learn to respect the Divine impulses of our nature. And 
thus we can readily discern that this war is by no means an 
evil without compensation. It may swallow up our best be- 
loved, — it may open graves in the very paths in which we 
walk — it may fill the land with mourning, but still, up from 
its ghastly furrows, a harvesi of good will rise, which, if not 
ourselves, our children will, in coming years of recompense, 
joyously gather in. 

That, in this aspect of this subject, we should rather re- 
joice than sorrow over the sufferings we are experiencing, 
must be obvious to all. No one will pretend that we did 
not deserve the chastisement tliat has come upon us. Yet, 
deserved as it is, our very punishment, in the yearning love 
of the Father, is made a means of elevation and improve- 
ment. With all our frailties and shortcomings, He yet dig- 
nifies us as instruments for achieving results involving the 
benefaction, not onl^'- of ourselves, but of the world at 
large. Certainly to any higher altitude than this it would 
1)0 impossible for any human soul to aspire ! In the grand- 
est disciplinary Providences wdiicli the century has known, 
we are directly God's servitors, doing immediately His office- 
work ; — that is the verdict which is passing into history of 
each and every man who in this conflict does his duty with 
fearless soul. Thus, every mother who gives her darling — 
every wife who, Avith a kiss and blessing, sends her husband 
to the field ; — every sister who gives a brother, every child 
who gives a father, is a contributor to the Grand Result 
which God purposes to mature, out of these troubles and 
alarms. And through all, since the peril and the suffering 
reach doivn to all, our character as individuals and as a nation 
is being radically purified and exalted ; we are learning the 
value of our institutions and our liberties — we are growing 
up to the highest standards of duty and of citizenship ; vce 
are learning to reverence, not the forms, but the soid of our 
civilization. We are fiffhtinc;- the battle of Freedom and 



Humanity — are vindicatini;- anew, on oia- battle-fields, the 
truths of all the ages which the rebellion menaces with de- 
struction, and the essential dignity of the cause attaches 
necessarily to our personal character and efforts, clothing us 
with a halo whose rndiance shall shine far down the cominfr 
centuries. 

It is true, undoubtedly, that we cannot with propriety in- 
terpret the purposes and doings of Divine Providence ; but 
this general principle is indubitable, that " out of evil, God 
still and uniformly educes good." However dark and mys- 
terious His plans, by whatever sufferings and trials of man- 
kind. He advances His purpose, that purpose always con- 
templates His own glory and the highest good of His crea- 
tures. We may, therefore, unhesitatingly assume that all 
these present troubles and afHictions tend to some glorious 
end, and that also, our cause is approved and favored of 
Heaven. From the very outset, there have been the most 
marked and conspicuous Divine interpositions in our behalf 
What was the disaster at Bull Run but a blessing in dis- 
guise ? And what a signal Providence was the flood of the 
Potomac immediately thereafter, preventing a movement by 
the enemy against the Capital of the Nation, and forbidding 
the possibility of a raid, (while our army lay panting and 
helpless about Washington,) into Maryland, so long coveted 
l)y the victorious foe ? And again, in that famous naval com- 
bat in Hampton Roads, what a striking Providence Avas the 
appearance, just at the pivotal moment, of the little Monitor, 
whose exploits not only saved the Federabfleet, but revolu- 
tionized the whole science of naval architecture and coast- 
wise defences? AVc need not enumerate the instances in 
which the Almighty Arm has been signally revealed in our 
defences ; it is enough to say that these interventions have 
been the marvel of the War ; and it should solace and 
strengthen our hearts in every hour of disaster that the 
God of our Fathers has, indeed, spread His shield over our 
heads in these days of carnage and peril. 

These/ads, my friends, in the suggestions this occasion es- 
pecially presents, may be accepted as satisfactorily proven. 
That tlie suppression of revolt involves a fearful expendi- 



36 

ture of life and property : that the stake involved in the 
conflict is wortli the price we pay ; and that this cost, or 
penalty, if thus you choose to call it, is but a natural con- 
dition of our being as a people — a legitimate and inevi^ble 
contribution we, in common with all nations of the world, 
must make toward the general fimd of human growth and 
happiness. 

But, iu the present attitude of national atfairs, to which it 
is eminently proper in this connection to refer, the question 
naturally thrusts itself before the mind : Con this rebellion 
be suppressed, and the Union reconstructed upon an endur- 
ing basis ? This, we say, in view of late events, is a ques- 
tion of paramount interest and importance. In its consid- 
eration, we afiirm, 23rimarily, that the suppression of the 
revolt is esscniial — essential alike to the stability of society 
and the domination of civilization itself. We affirm next, 
that because we believe it to be essential, it will, in our 
opinion, come to pas.^. 

We believe, also, that the rebellion will be feduced, be- 
cause, negatively, it is impossible for the revolted States to 
withdraw from the Union — the entire question being subor- 
didate to fixed and immutable laws ; these being physi- 
cal and geographical disabilities to separation, which are no 
more capable of removal, than the Alps can be quarried from 
their base with a wisp of straw. Contemplate for one mo- 
ment the dif&culty of division. Who, in case of separation, 
.shall possess Washington ? Who shall fix the frontiers ? 
Will the inhabitants of the vast and' sturdy W^est, of those 
States which form the basin of the Mississippi, Missouri and 
the Ohio, give up the navigation of those essential avenues, or 
consent that ISTew Orleans, sitting by the mouth of the imperial 
Father of Waters, shall belong to another — a hostile country ? 
Can any man believe that this great American Republic 
— whose power reaches to the remotest ends of the earth — 
whose influence measurably shakes the policy of every ci-vil- 
ized nation — with a territorial expanse neaily ten times as 
great as that of Great Britain and France combined — three 
times as large as the whole of France, Britain, Austria, Prus- 
sia, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Holland and Denmark; togeth- 



37 

er; of equal extent witli tlie Komaii Empire and that of 
Alexander — whose resources and al)ility //i((y embrace a con- 
tinent — will consent to be dei)rived of its Southern frontiers, 
its ports in the Gulf — of Louisiana, of Florida, of Texas, 
which we bought with a price? Can any one believe that, 
once . divided, it will ever be possible to adjust accounts with 
an insolvent neighbor, establishing a tariff of damages due 
for Federal property, for repudiated debts, and for reciprocal 
sequestrations? To separate North and South, it would be 
necessary, as one has said, to draw I know not what indefi- 
nite line through the loyal and the insurgent States — across 
rivers, and mountains, and railways, and canals, and inland 
seas, — every point of which it would be necessary to guard 
by a customs-officer and a soldier. Wlio believes, thus divi- 
ded, the two sections could ever be at peace — that border 
strifes, and savage, relentless retaliations could possibly l.)e 
avoided.? No, my friends, separation is impossil^le — the or- 
ganic life of a nation eniliodying the people's sovereignty can- 
not thus be destroyed or dismembered. 

But, this is merel}^ the negative side of the question. We 
answer, positively, to the (j^uestion w^hether this rebellion can 
be suppressed, that it can be and it will be. Leaving theory 
altogether aside, what is the fact ? It is i)recisely this that, 
up to the present time, we have subdued the rebellion at ev- 
ery point save one against which we have, in full earnest, 
directed our forces. We have subjugated, not communities 
merely, but entire States. The South to-day is sealed her- 
metically against the world. Practically the Federal authori- 
ty is already restored in every one but five of the revolted 
States, and these lie at our mercy. We may safely, therefore, 
affirm that the Union caji be re-established. Not that Union 
in which, for long and weary years, debauchery and crime 
— oppression and injustice — sat in gown and powdered wig 
in all places of authority — not that Union in which mousing 
})oliticians liave mocked the people, crucif^'ing with demo- 
niac rupture the saving princijiles of Virtue, Litelligenceand 
Truth, and the prolligate Ambition of pomjious ^lediocrity 
has pushed its way o\'er the wise and good into eminence — 
not that Union in wliieli, by inexplicable perversions of its 



6- 



38 

intent and object, tlic Government has been employed, not 
for the good of all, or even of the majority, but for the bene- 
fit of the Few — not ilils Union, but the Union as tlie Fathers 
formed it and meant it ever should be — the great support of 
Liberty in the earth — a nation full of all the precious influ- 
ences of justice, enlightenment and religion — gathering to 
itself from all the centuries the good, the truth which neither 
martyrdoms nor scourgings could destroy — tin's Union will he, 
must be re-established. And this is the lesson of this hour, 
thai: in the work of its final restoration, tre are to stand, each 
man firmly in his lot, enduring sacrifice, privation, death itself, 
if need be, for the nation's sake. 

The nation is to be saved — our duty is to aid in its salva- 
tion. Not upon a few, not upon a class, Ijut upon all, equal- 
ly and alike, the work depends. And to-night the cry is, Fill 
up the ranks, fill up the ranks of our armies everywhere. 
From far battle-fields, the blood of dear ones fallen calls to 
us to bear forward, on our shoulders, the cause in whose de- 
fence they died. From hospital and camp, where our heroes 
lie maimed and beleaguered, the appeal is heard : " Come to 
our help, oh. Brothers, that Liberty may not be slain in the 
house of her friends." That appeal is to yoit and we, and it 
is the cry not of a brother only, but of the nation, in deepest 
agony. Let us see to it that we heed it and obey its sum- 
mons. If we cannot go to the field ourselves, let us find sub- 
stitues who can. Let the rich pour out their wealth — the 
poor give their mite — all give or do something for the coun- 
try's sake. The nation must and shall he saved. 

Some hearts there are that shrink and falter under adverse 
fortune. Why they should consider this an hour of gloom, 
we cannot see. It is rather, as it seems to us, the dusky twi - 
light through which the* full-orbed Day is to rise and shine. 
There are grounds of hope to-day we never had before. We 
fully comprehend, at last, the magnitude of the Revolt with 
which we have to do. We realize fully the necessity of meas- 
ures imperiously stern and unsparing — that it is not by soft 
phrases and gloved hands Ave are to subdue the vaulting 
spirit of turbulence and insurrection. Hitherto we have 
failed altogether to recognize the deep intensity of hate and 



©■ 



o 

89 

malignity witli wliicli avc had to deal ; liave fed the monster 
of rebellion with syllabul), rather than with leaden physic. 
Now, seeing that pelting this infernal ci'ime with grass has 
been of no avail, "we mean to sec what virtue there is in 
stones. Now we go in to conquer i^eace, order, obedience on 
ever}' foot of our soil. Henceforth, the traitor, wherever 
found, must j:>ay the penalty of his treason. No longer must 
federal bayonets protect the comfort and estate of the disloy- 
al. The march of our armies in the h<?reafter will be to the 
music of freedom, and behind them as they go, twenty mil- 
lions of resolute and determined souls will throb with death- 
less purpose. There is new ground for hope, we say, in this 
resurrection of the nation from the indolence and partial 
comprehension of our duty, which has hitherto characterized 
our movements. Employing for the suppression of rebellion 
all the elements of strength God and nature have placed with- 
in onr reach — with augmented vigor and a uniformly unspar- 
ing policy, success must in the very nature of the case attend 
our eflbrts, since, precisely in the proportion we increase our 
strength, the power of the insurgents must gradually dimin- 
ish, — the zenith of their ability being already reached, and 
henceforth, without accruing resources, liable with each pass- 
ing day, to be more and more exhausted. 

Let no one, therefore, be discouraged. The sun is shining- 
still upon the mountain-tops. We read in sacred story that 
in the exodus of Israel's opj)ressed and weary tribes from the 
land of Egypt, they one day came, with heat and travel o'er- 
labored, to the Red Sea shore, and there, lay down to rest. 
Thus far upon their way they had come, all undisturbed and 
triumphant. But as by the river's rim the wearied bands 
lay at ease, suddenly, a cloud of waving spears and banners 
appeared along the distant sky. In pomp and martial pride, 
with columns dun and swarthy, with chariots and liorsemen 
all unnumbered, Pharoah pressed down upon the fugitive 
and affrighted tribes. What wonder that, as the truth dawn- 
ed on their thought, despair fdled every heart, that 
" Tlio liiint ami weary train. 
Red from the scourge and recent f'mni the chain, " 
with straining eves looked cvcrvwherc for some outlet ot es- 



40 

cape ! l^'rom bondage and death, tliey had come witli jo- 
cund and exultant hearts, dreaming all the way of liberty ; 
now, suddenly, the oj^pressor's arm is again stretched out 
against them, and all seems lost. But, even then, God's eye 
was on them, and His Arm deliverance brought : 

" The man of God 
O'er the wide waters lifts his mighty rod, 
And onward treads The circling waves retreat, 
III hoarse, deep murmurs from his holy feet ; 
With limbs that falter, and with hearts that leap 
Down pass the host — a slippery way and steep — 
Down, safely down the narrow pass they tread. 
The beetling waters storming 'bove their head — 
While far behind retires the smiling day, 
And fades on Edom's lulls its latest ray." 

So in the darkest hour, deliverance came. For 

•• From Edom's coral strand 
Again the prophet stretched his dreadful M^and, 
With one wild crash the thundering waters sweep, 
And all is tumult — a dark and turbid deep — 
Yet o'er those seething waves what murmurs passed, — 
A mortal wailing swelled the mighty blast — 
And strange and sad the whispering breezes bore 
The firoans of Egypt to Arabia's shore." 

Ourselves, my friends, are pictured in this scene of Heber. 
As did Israel's bands of old, so we, panting with the heat 
and burden of desperate battle, lie now by the brink of ovr 
Red Sea of Tribniation, seeking rest. Flushed and strong, 
tlie foe is pressiTig down upon us. We remember from what 
evils wo luu'o in the; past escaped — to Avhat hand of Prom- 
ise, beari)ig the world's hope blazoned upon our banners, 
we arc journeying ; and f(\ar assails our hearts, overshadow- 
ing and oppressing us. But still, God is over all, — still He 
holds wide open the crystal portal of deliverance. In His 
own good time, He will part the waves that we may walk 
through them with trinmphant feet, to the green land beyond, 
from whose lofty heights, it may be, we shall see our foe cn- 
gulphed and swept away in the blood-red waters wherein 
they hfi]>ed to extinguish, forever and forever, the lights of 



■1 



1 7 

Virtue Of civilization and of freedom, borne up of us in our 
armies van ! i ui 

So to-night, with liope still shining upon our banners- 
appreciating as we should the value of the stake for which it 
^s our privilege and prerogative to contend-tliankfu] that we 
are permitted in a time so full of grandest impulses to act our 
part tor Freedom and Humanity-thankful that it has been 
ours to give a Iriend and brother to the nations cause, we set 
up here a white stone to the memory of our dead, and go 
forth unto the work that awaits us. We know there are 
seams and rents in the quivering life of the nation, but we 
see as well that God is sowing in them, as in furrows, new 
elements of strength and vigor. We know there are manv 
dead lying, unshrouded and uncoffined, on ghastlv battle- 
tields, but we do not forget that in other years our children's 
children, living in the perfect freedom these spent lives re- 
deemed, will gather daises from the ashes of these lost ones 
-that no human life is ever vainly spent in a holy cause: 
and that contents our souls. We feel, especially, "here to- 
night, that one is missing who shall never come again to his 
old familiar place ; wliose genial smile shall never Hash a-ain 
Its sunshine over any liere ; whose kindly courtliness of diar- 
acter and mien shall never more, here on e-arth, win homao-e 
or applause. We know there is a home where a widow^l 
one bows through weary hours before a picture on the wall 
whose eyes still speak with kindliest look; that there are 
bves in whose bending boughs the singing-birds of Joy and 
Teace shall sing no more forever ; we know all tliis. and yet 
if we clioose to lift our eyes heavenward, we shall see the 
"orient gates" still wide ajar,_the bow still lifting its star- 
ry arch above them. There are graves, indeed, but there 
could be no resurrection without them: there are losses, too 
but there are gains as well. It is written that a cannon ball 
m the Crimea tore its destructive way tlirough the ranks of 
the soldiers, and covered the ])lain witli the dead and dyino-- 
but It buried itself at last in the hillside, and opened thcro-1 
clear spring of water, to slaicc the tliirst of tlie perishino- 
battalions, ^o every shattering blow of this .sid war, only 
causes some new spring of joy, .somowliere, fo break forth"; 



42 

from every wound, it may be, some healing balm will flow. 
Let lis mouru not, therefore, over dear ones fallen. Along ' 
the royal road of Duty, tJiey have marched to glory, while we 
are still loitering here, ou dusty ways. Let us be up and 
doing. God and our country call. Over the sapphire walls, 
the shining Inunortals lean, beckoning us to duty — bidding 
us through blood and sacrifice, to come up thitherward. Let 
us, men and brethren, be on the march, to join the company, 
— the martyrs and heroes of whatever age, who through great 
tribulations have won the crown. In the field, our sons and 
brothers are standing bravch' and with unfaltering faith, for 
Liberty and Law. Challenged of disease, nnd pain, and 
death, tliey stand yet inflexible and stern. Tlic surges of 
oppression and revolt beat against them, but still like 
massive sea-walls, immo^•able they stand. iJe it ours, to fill 
ov.r lot as courageously and faithfullj^ as they. Bo. it ours to 
keep l)right and clear upon every altar the fires of Liberty 
and Trutli. So, when these our heroes come flocking home- 
ward with their scars upon them — with their torn and blood- 
stained standards fluttering above them — when Peace at last 
shall be proclaimed from every throblnng belfry in all the 
land, and the ravelled nation's life shall be gathered up again, 
we, one and all, may fitly join in the nation's jubilee, coming 
with song and timbrel to celebrate ov.r triumph. So, the 
st(jne being rolled away, indeed, from every grave this war 
has made, the Angel of God, descending, may rest upon it, 
while from the heights their valor won, all the ascended ones 
may look down upon the work in whose achievement they 
earned the recompense of a nation's love and a world's ap- 
plause. 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 



013 703 846 8 



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For Clubs of ten, or more, sent to one address, Twenty 
Cents per copy. 

Oi-ders sent to tlic undersigned Committee, will be prompt- 
ly iilled, and the copies ordered sent by mail, postage paid. 

.l.\MES 1). L'LEAVEIJ, ] 

BAILEY ]?. DOUGLAS, V (\nninHhr. 

JOnX C. AIANDEVILLE, ) 



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Np.WAriK Daily MRr.ci'HV Stkam Towek PiiK.f.-~— 2Sf! I'.uoah ^Tl:l•.^•r. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



013 703 846 8 



^ 



TERMS: 

Twenty-Ftyk Cents for single copies. 

For Clubs of ten, or more, sent to one address, Twext^' 
Cents per copy. 

Orders sent to the undersigned Committee, Avill be prompt- 
ly iillcd, and the copies ordered sent by inuil, postnge paid. 



.1 A:\IE.S 1). CLEAVE! !, 
liAILEY V,. POrdLAS. 
JOHN C. :iLi>rDEVILLt:, 



(omrnillt 



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